“That thing out there today. It was... it looked like... Was it one of you.”
“I don’t know.” The robot sits on the cold polished concrete floor and pensively looks down using a metallic finger to flick at nothing, “I thought. I was. The only one.” His voice snaps and pops from his speakers as he uses radio clips stored in his memory banks to express himself, his voice module destroyed in a time forgotten. He looks up his blue glowing eyes washing Throttle in the color of his sadness.
“It sure as "LASER BLAST" was. You saw that thing Thro...” Throttle delivers a quick jab to GP’s side, “Umph! What the...” she goes to do it again only GP backs up tripping over a haphazardly placed wrench and falls flat on his ass.
“I told you to put the tools away.” Throttle shoots a look at GP ego bruised on the floor. Then it clicks.
On a scavenging mission Throttle and GP entered the abandoned but locked up garage. They picked the lock, the taste of mold hung in the air. They inched their way past industrial shelving each overflowing with old world tech. When they first saw BumbleBee he sat surrounded by mildew stained sagging stacks of cardboard boxes vomiting their contents of computers, tablets, phones, anything with a chip or processing power onto the floor. They watched silently from behind cover. Unsure of what to do. It was GP that silently raised his rifle first. Throttle followed.
“It’s okay. Just do it. I won’t stop you.” The voice made up of radio clips, a song lyric here, a DJ’s voice there, took them by surprise. GP squeezed the trigger as Throttle shouldered him to the side. His fire went wild completely missing the metallic creature before them. The yellow creature didn’t react. It didn’t flinch. It welcomed death. When it saw the sparks off to its right it turned towards the two.
Throttle stood and lowered her weapon.
“What the "LASER BLAST" you doing Throttle? That thing...”
“Shut it GP.” She looked at the robotic entity, “You can speak?”
“Can you understand us?”
“What are you?”
“I. I. I don’t know.” Sadness clear in the chosen words.
“What are you doing here?” She gestured around the room, “With all this?”
“I don’t know.”
Throttle stepped further into the room. SMASH! The garage doors rattled as the bodies of the undead slammed into it. The sounds of GP’s errant gunfire having rung like a dinner bell to the starving masses of flesh hungry monsters. Throttle and GP spun towards the door weapons up.
“Throttle we gotta go now.”
“Yeah.” She chanced a glance back at the sad yellow being next to her then carefully began back stepping. She trusted GP to cover their six. They had to get to the rear door, hope none of THEM were there, and then high tail it out of dodge.
“Don’t go. They are there.” They froze at the words.
“How do you know?” GP asked trigger finger itching.
“I can. See them. We are, surrounded.”
“Can it GP. We don’t know that for sure.”
“I. Am sure.” Replied the robot. The banging on the doors becoming louder. Smash! Sounds of the backdoor shattering filled the garage.
“Stay frosty GP.” A grunt his only reply.
The sounds of glass shattering and boxes toppling over ever increasing.
“We’re really fucked Throttle.”
Without taking her eyes off her site picture , “Any ideas big guy?”
Throttles jaw drops as the parts of the robot shift, changing position with mechanical clicks. In seconds where there was once a man-like robot there now sat a dust covered Volkswagen Beetle 4x4. The doors popped open, “Get in.”
“What are you waiting for. You heard it. Get in.” GP jumped in the open passenger door which slammed shut behind him. Throttle shook her head and ran for the driver’s side. The door slammed shut as soon as she sat down. The garage door began bowing under the tremendous weight of the ghouls pressing their sinewy bodies against it. At the same moment the car rocked violently as the first runner slammed into the passenger side. It’s body broken by time yet still possessed by the unquenchable urge to kill. The thin window glass the only thing stopping it from sinking it’s broken black teeth into GP’s flesh on the other side. Throttle reached for the ignition, “No keys.” Suddenly engine started with a roar. “Buckle up. This. Is about to. Get. Rocky.” The car accelerated in the small space pushing GP and Throttle back into the bucket seats. It launched itself at the garage doors easily smashing through them and the awaiting mass of undead outside. The sounds of bodies squelching and crunching under the tires like a gruesome opera. The smell of gray rotted flesh filled the cabin. “I’m gonna be sick.” GP spit out, color drained from his face. Near instantly the hum of a fan kicked in and both the sounds and smell were gone. “Holy Hell.” Throttle exclaimed, “Is there anything else you can do?” The only response being the speedometer rapidly increasing.
That was over a year ago. At first the others were apprehensive to say the least. No one knew what it was. Where it came from. What it could do. Slowly BumbleBee proved itself an invaluable ally. So much so that Throttle doesn’t go outside the wire without “The Bug.”
Until today he believed he was the only one of his kind. Now there was evidence that he wasn’t. And it was an enemy. BumbleBee sat wondering about his place in the world and what it meant that there was another like him.